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Ilras, quit trying to squirt your sister with ketchup. The inverse square law is on her side.
But mom! I’m just trying to teach her defense! Meanwhile, baby Imtara giggled in delight at frustrating her brother’s dastardly plan.
Dear, even if she was asleep, she’d have plenty of time to wake up and divert the stream. She’s well past that drill. All you’re doing is giving the dogs a mess to clean up.
Ilras didn’t realize it, but his sister had ally. Esteban, the oldest at six Imperial years of age (4 Earth), scooped together a good-sized dollop with matris, stealthed it with a buffer of matraand brun, and flung it at his younger brother. I usually expected better behavior from Esteban, but under the circumstances, I let it slide.
Splat! It caught Ilras right on his jawline. No fair! Ilras cried indignantly, then had the awareness to look abashed when I gave him the mental equivalent of a cocked eyebrow. Ilras wasn’t ready for the drills Esteban was doing yet, and Esteban had just made use of that fact to slip a counter-attack his brother wasn’t ready for under his defenses. Given the impetus of an older brother who wasn’t above using his advantages, I suspected Ilras would learn quickly.
Meanwhile, Mischief, our English Cream longhair miniature dachshund, gave a plaintive whine that she’d been deprived of her snack, most of which was now plastered across Ilras’ face, and looked expectantly at Esteban for a replacement. Her name really was doubly appropriate; we ended up calling her Miss Chief about half the time. How she knew Esteban was responsible for her deprivation, I don’t know, but no replacement was forthcoming. Scarecrow, our chocolate and tan shorthair male, gave a muted but pre-emptory bark informing us he wanted ketchup, too. We were at the table; we studiously ignored them.
I felt a muted thunk as Tina, my assistant, slid us into the control plug of my latest contract, followed a few seconds later by a datalink message of control verified, ready for Vector. I’d chosen Tina for the job because she was my niece and already a fully qualified in-system navigator, but despite my hopes after six years nearly constant exposure to the kids, she hadn’t gone operant yet, so I still had to do all the Vectoring. I relieved her, re-computed the Vector for confirmation, performed it, verified position, and (because our next pickup was in this same system) transferred the helm back to her for in-system maneuvering to our next job. It had taken all of six seconds, and I’d still had a couple of para to keep the peace at the dinner table.
Mama, how long until we can play with baby Alden? Ilora wanted to know again.
About three more weeks, honey, I told her. Truth be told, despite all the advantages of being a Guardian, I was ready for my last pregnancy to be over. Next time, I would plan on one child, two at the most. But I really had only myself to blame – I could have just used artificial gestation for Esteban, same as everyone else, and then most of the Empire wouldn’t have known about the advantages of operant mothers carrying operant children themselves. I’d introduced Alden to his older siblings on several occasions, but most of the time, kept him swaddled away where only I or Asto could interact with him. Since Asto was a First Corporal, assigned as executive officer of a squadron of Planetary Surface troops out in Ninth Galaxy, that didn’t happen as often as any of us liked. The rank was an almost exact match to Brigadier General in the old US Army; a squadron was 14,400 combat troops plus their support staff of roughly another 3600.
Alden, for his part, wanted out into the great wide world. It took two of my para full time to keep him occupied and learning, and he still wasn’t satisfied. Can I play with Ilras and Esteban, Mom? It was tempting to just blow off the last three weeks of this pregnancy, knowing any physical defects could be fixed later, but neither I nor Asto was ready to experiment with Alden’s emotional development. The Empire had tens of thousands of years of evidence children were more able to deal with the world after a full gestation, even in an artificial womb. Neither of us wanted to experiment more than we’d already done with our own children, carrying them naturally as I’d done.
Dinner was just about over, winding down with chocolate ice cream for everyone, when Asto told me, It’s official!
Children, some news. Your father is getting a new assignment. He’s going to be a Staff Corporal assigned to maintenance and repair in Indra System! We’re going to go live in the Residence, where he can be home every day!
Why is he getting demoted? Esteban wanted to know. Staff Corporal was a four grade drop, although two of them were staff grades, out of the line of command.
Because he’s transferring to a space unit. You always transfer from Planetary Surface to Strategic Space or Tactical Space at a lower rank. He’d be expected to absorb an entirely new set of protocols; but a maintenance and repair assignment meant he’d henceforth be eligible for direct transfers or promotions within either of the space-borne branches.
It was a necessary move if he wanted to advance. He could wait until the sergeant grades if he wanted to, but above that, slots in Planetary Surface Forces were few and rare. The higher you went the harder it was to transfer and the bigger a demotion you’d probably have to take. All the important commands went to Tactical or Strategic Space Officers, because they all involved spaceborne warfare. Planetary Surface troops were important, but battles and wars were won in space. The Empire really didn’t like to destroy habitable planets or even functioning bases, but they’d do it if they had to. Nobody talked about it much, but when even a one-man fighter could blow apart an unshielded planet, there weren’t any defenses that could hold off a determined assault. Imperial planets were shielded against accidental or inadvertent destruction, or perhaps against small groups of madmen, not an intentional fleet action. Asto needed to move over to a Space assignment to continue his advancement, so taking the demotion was something that we’d known about for a while. But Asto was sharp; he probably wouldn’t lose more than five of the much shorter Imperial years regaining his former rank. And by taking this particular assignment, he enabled us to be together as a real family. At least for a little while, and with the kids being young, that made it even more worth the cost.
Copyright 2018 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.
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